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Lost Episode of Wacky Races
Did you ever get fucked on Wacky Races? I was receiving a blow job during a job fair for kamikaze drone pilots in the middle of western minesota when some fat asshole with his thumb up his ass gave me “The Lost Episode of Wacky Races.” I told that dick-sucker that if he wants a wacky race, he should try seeing if he can see his dick when he gets out of the shower before the subcutaneously layered bellyfat and I sort of trailed off 9/11 something something. I had a tape to watch. I dressed up like a rail-riding boxcar hobo so I could escape the job-fair before a trail of eager prospectors saw my VHS and tried to steal it. I ducked into a local sewer drain, and after navigating a network of tunnel and sewer systems I ended up coming out of my own toilet and into the living room, covered in shit, piss and what I hoped to god was just pasta sauce. Thank god. I put the VHS in the player and pushed my index, middle and pinky finger into the play button. I did this because I have taken college statistics, and I know for sheer certainty that there is at least a 1/3 chance that one of those fingers will correctly hit the button. Just as I predicted, the tape started. I made a note in my VHS notebook and started watching wacky races. “GET OVER HERE YE HOOLIGANZ!” It was dick dastardly. That dastardly dick. He was being so dastardly, him and his dick. Oh man, they were racing so fast. I got out the cucumber and Vaseline. I don’t know if you know this, but I fucked the voice actress who plays Penelope pit stop in the 1980s. I penelope’d her pitstop, alright. Hey-o! What- what on earth? Their voice, were so low. “Penelpopth psst fthmop pssst” One of the cars crashed, and I got a raging boner. I’m sexually attracted to car crashes, and I am known as an autophile. It doesn’t interfere with my daily life, usually, but on rare occasions me and the “misses” go into the garage and, well, you catch my drift. I have sex with cars. I put the tape back on. Their voices… were so low. They were murmuring something, it was really disturbing. No one talks this low, and I think it may have been a conspiracy. Their heads are turning and they’re mumbling, their eyes get a little blood red, or maybe it’s just the tint on my 80s bubble tv. I adjusted the knobs and I found that when I turned the knob to the left, the characters… were changing color. First brown, then white, then a beige…sorta gray. No. This was too creepy. What happened next shocked me to the very core of my being and I will never forget it. I know you won’t believe me, I mean why would you. But… a man that looked like Adolf Hitler was driving the head car and winning the race. The announcer even says it. “Here comes hitler drivin’ down lane Bee buzz buzz bee buzz bee, buzz a bee” He starts talking about bees now and I think the plotline was that dick dastardly was trying to murder people with bees, but the camera stayed on the hitler man, who never smiled. I shivered. How did the creator know I don’t like bees? Dick dastardly smiled at the camera. Now how’s this for “Wacky Races?” He winked, and the music stopped. I wasn’t gonna let hitler win. I picked up the tv and considered smashing it. There was a 50% chance that the characters were real, conscious and alive inside the tv. When I was a kid I was watching gilligans island and I turned the tv sideways and they all drowned. That’s why you don’t see it on tv anymore. I murdered everyone on gilligans island with salt water. Speaking of a different kind of “salt water” I watched as the hitler man crashed and simultaneously ejaculated all over the furniture. There was just furniture laying out in the middle of the desert. What bothered me that dick dastardly was dead. He wasn’t moving and the grotesque, highly rendered corpse was covered in flies. His spine was broken, and bees were feasting on his innards. His neck was twisted backwards and the eye was hanging out of its socket while army ants marched across the floor, picking apart and carrying his eyeball away. This went on for about five minutes before I puked into a container that once held a chocolate conspiracy cake that I purchased at Ikea. I decided I was going to go to Ikea. I was hungry, and I also wanted to update all of my furniture. I was concerned that the bubble tv, VCR and accompanying tape may have been haunted. I don’t personally believe in ghosts. Maybe I’m just in denial for murdering Gary Coleman. I got into my car, but a cop pulled me over because I had a visible erection. After informing him that I am autophile, he wrote me a ticket inviting me to some swingers meeting outside of Pep Boys. I told him I wasn’t interested and he sent me on my way. I finally reached Ikea. I decided that I wasn’t in the mood for furniture shopping and instead went into the cafeteria. I was just gonna try the food, I mean eating at a furniture store! It’s quaint! What I saw next sent my jaw straight down the floor and completely ruined not just my life but the lives of everyone else in the area by proxy. The characters…they were eating at Ikea. They leered at me. They were leering a sinister leer, I’ll tell you that. They were smiling and leering, and smiling and leering. Rufus Ruffcut was assembling a moljinar tea and caddy set for $59.99. The other one, the hairy one, shook his club at me. He SHOOK his club at me. “Get out of here, you fucking Neanderthal.” I said. They all gasped in unison. Peter Perfect smiled at me. It was a sinister smile, I’ll tell you that much. A little gay, but also sinister. Wait a minute… the couch from the show. The gruesome twosome were on it. Oh, it was a gruesome twosome alright…they weren’t wearing pants or underwear or shirts, but they were fucking with socks on. My gag reflex kicked in hard. “So all this was just to get me here!” I yelled angrily. “So now what?” I looked on the floor. Scrawled in marker were train tracks. It was then that I saw him. In the cafeteria, mixing batter. The mustachioed dick dastardly smiled at me. He looked a little disheveled, like he had spent many painstaking hours to set up this elaborate VHS, furniture dining plot. It wasn’t a train though, it was a car. A Miata, the king of automobiles. I could feel a raging boner growing in my pants. I looked out, and he was smiling at me. I had time to get out of the way, I mean you can’t just drive a car through an Ikea. There are laws, rules, customs. The car crashed, burned, and exploded. Whoever was in it probably died. I mean they have those self driving cars in Sweden, but I heard someone yell “Help me I’m burning to death!” It could’ve been a computer, but it had a Swedish accent. It was probably an employee, or an employee’s friend, if not an unrelated Swedish man. That was when the cops showed up. Dick Dastardly was arrested, but there was a hung jury trial because they couldn’t prove a lack of jury bias due to his birthname. He was still crying as the announcer declared the race winner, somehow, his voice floating on the county court PA. The winner was… a couch. Evidently the couch was on the finish line during the murder, so it was declared the winner by default. Few know about Hannah Barbara’s ties to train murders, the German Nationalist party, or cultural Marxism in general. It only makes sense that they would plot at Ikea, since Sweden was neutral during world war two. Now if you’ll excuse me, me and “the misses” have some oiling, lubricating and elbow grease to attend to. I’m going to have sex with my car. Video Category:CreepyPasta Article Category:Lost Episodes Category:SillyPasta Article Category:Creepypastas narrated by DaveTheUseless